Mellyn episode 1
by Gemini Willow
Summary: Based from 'Bagenders' which I do not own - The Fellowship are living in the modern day world creating chaos! Crack-fic


**A/N: I was reading the Bagender's series on , but it only went up to Episode two of Series two. The idea of the Fellowship being immortal and living in the modern world fascinated me, so I decided to try my own take on it. **

**Disclaimer: I do *not* own The Lord of the Rings, any associated characters etc. I do not own Bagenders. 'Mellyn' is the elvish word for "Friends" which is an American comedy show about six friends living in apartments and their lives together.**

The phone beside Frodo's desk rang. The blue-eyed hobbit's right hand flashed out, his four fingers wrapping around the phone, never stopping writing with his left hand, "Good afternoon, Centre of Excellence, Loyalty and Expertise Bank. How may I help you?"

The sound of Sam's dramatic, hiccupping, snivelling, sobbing and altogether unnecessary performance that one called 'crying' was all that could be heard for several moments, before Frodo made out the words, "Rosie's died!"

The ex-ring bearer rolled his eyes, but kept his tone sympathetic, "Sam…that's awful."

"I kn-kn-know…"

"Oh Sam!" Frodo kept up his front of sympathy, "I wish I could come over, but I have several accounts to total by the end of the day."

Frodo's co-worker, Edward, raised his head to say something, but the hobbit shook his head viciously, before trying to decipher what his friend was saying through his sobs. Clearly he had been telling Frodo the story as the next thing he said was, "A-a-and there sh-sh-she was…..just lying in th-th-there!"

"Sam, I'll call the others, see if any of them could come over," Frodo said.

"O-k-k."

"Alright, see you later Sam." Frodo hung up swiftly.

"S'up dude?" Edward asked. His long, blonde fringe partly obscured his face as he looked at his fellow CELEB employee. Frodo actually quite liked Edward. Unlike the previous woman, Gina, Edward didn't ogle Frodo and make inappropriate comments about what a 'perfect' height the hobbit was. Unlike Paul, another ex-employee, Edward didn't glare at Frodo whenever one of the rest of the Fellowship rang with some sort of emergency, such as the time when the zoo rang him because Legolas had taken to trying to kill the 'Spawn of Ungoliant' which was the very rare breed of tarantula only just acquired by the zoo, or when Gandalf had set fire to the shed when experimenting with his fireworks (Or at least that's what he claimed to be doing, the smell of certain herbs lingering at the bottom of the garden suggested otherwise). Unlike another previous man, Derrick, Edward didn't constantly talk all day. In fact, it was rare Edward ever strung more than three sentences together, hence why he was shoved into the accounting office with Frodo manning the phone, instead of being in Public Relations. Most importantly, Edward actually kept things tidy in the office, unlike Bertha who had always seemed to spread all of her equipment all over the desk, the floor, the filing cabinets and any other horizontal surface, and he also actually did his work, which was a huge added bonus.

In answer to Edward's question, Frodo rolled his eyes.

"Don't ask," he murmured, quickly speed dialled the first number on his mobile phone.

"Hello." A gruff and commanding voice said. Frodo opened his mouth to speak, but sighed at the next sentence, "You have reached the answerphone of Aragorn Arathorn's son. I am currently defending Pippin Took. Yes b the /b Pippin Took, and thus cannot answer your call. Even if you're Arwen." Frodo frowned as the sound of sobbing reached his ears for the second time that day, "I still miss you snuggle bunny! I wanna be your scruffy ranger again!" There was a short pause and then a beep told Frodo to record his message.

Instead, he disconnected from the call, and wrote down in his notebook, "Remind Aragorn to change his answerphone message."

Frodo's fingers hesitated before he speed dialled a second number.

A bored voice answered. "Hello, McDonald's takeaway service, how can I help you?"

"Merry, you only need to say that when you answer the takeaway line, not when you answer your mobile."

"Do you want to super size that? Only 99p extra!" Merry replied, injecting fake enthusiasm into his voice.

"Merry!" Frodo cried.

"Huh? Frodo?" Merry said dazedly, the fact that it was his cousin on the line finally getting through to him.

"Yes, me. Listen, when's your next break?"

"Uh…" Frodo could picture Merry glancing over at the clock, probably in the most awkward and contorted fashion known to hobbit, "In half an hour."

"Could you go and see Sam? Rosie's died."

"Uh… My supervisor just told me I won't get a break today. Bye." Merry hung up very abruptly.

Frodo stifled a groan as he likewise ended the call. Even from the other side of town he swore he could hear Merry's relieved sigh at escaping his doom…

"Trouble?" Edward drawled, again glancing away from the computer momentarily.

"Big trouble," Frodo speed dialled for a third time, crossing his fingers tightly.

"Greetings Frodo," a melodic voice answered.

"Hey Legolas, when's your next break?"

"I do not have breaks," the elf replied in a patient tone, "I finish work at five."

"Ah. See, Rosie's died-"

"I comforted Sam last time," Legolas said, more steel in his voice than there was in Gimli's armour, "I am not doing it this time."

"Hi Gandalf! Rosie died-"

The phone was immediately hung up before the poor hobbit could even finish his sentence.

"Hello?" Gimli asked as he answered the phone. He frowned at a beep as the person the other side of the phone hung up. Gimli grunted, "Must have been a wrong number…"

Little did he know that in the CELEB office Frodo was quietly shaking his head and wondered what had possessed him to call possibly the most insensitive member of the Fellowship when it came to Sam's moods…He truly must be growing desperate! It was time for the last resort…

Reluctantly, the ex-ring bearer dialled the last number on his contact list…

A chirpy, slightly dippy voice answered the phone, the type that conjured the image of platinum blonde hair, wide eyes, short skirts, long legs and blouses with only enough buttons done up to conserve modesty. "Hello, Pippin Took's office, how may I help you?"

"Hi," Frodo said, somewhat nervously, "is Pippin there?"

"Mr Took is currently in a highly important meeting," the secretary cheeped.

The hobbit closed his eyes, whispered a thank you and hung up.

Edward sighed and glanced away from the numbers on his computer again when Frodo lightly banging his head against his desk.

"What b **is /**bup dude?" Edward asked.

"My best friend's gerbil died." Frodo replied wearily.

Chapter two

As he walked up the stairs to his apartment he shared with Legolas, Aragorn checked his phone. His heart skipped a beat when he realised he had missed a call.

i 'Please be Arwen! Please be Arwen…' /i he begged to any Valar who might be listening. Apparently, they had turned deaf in their excruciatingly old age and the ranger let out a heavy sigh when he realised the missed call had only been from Frodo.

i 'What would that midget want?' /i he thought, rather moodily. Normally he and Frodo got along like a house on fire, but Aragorn would happily kill the hobbit in a second if it meant regaining his beloved Arwen…

Aragorn opened the door to Frodo's flat, and stopped mid step at the sight that confronted him.

Flour coated the floor, and every surface in the kitchen. Bits of Frodo's favourite green bowl, now irreversibly shattered into pieces, an egg, several stalks of strawberries and at least a quarter of a packet of sugar covered the floor. Sam stood calmly in the middle of the chaos, pouring cake mix into a tin. The hobbit was wearing a pink apron with the words, "My ickle sweetheart," on it that the ex-king assumed was from some sort of cheap bootsale…that or perhaps Sam had some odd fetish for pink outfits, after all, there had been that time with the pink nurse's uniform... Aragorn gave himself a firm mental slap, fiercely reminding himself to b never /b think about that day again.

"Sam what happened here?" Aragorn demanded. Sam ignored him and started scraping the bowl.

"Sam!" Aragorn barked loudly, using his best, 'I am the king, you will listen to me,' or 'I am a really tall scary guy, get out my way,' voice that always gained attention.

Sam looked around, and seeing the ex-king, his eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, hello Aragorn," he sobbed.

"Sam…what happened here?" Aragorn repeated himself, carefully stepping into the kitchen.

"I am making a cake." Sam held up a glass bowl full of an odd tan coloured mixture that did not resemble cake mixture at all.

"I can see that. What about all the mess?" Aragorn stepped further into the room and his grey eyes wandered over to the sugar in the sink. It had reacted with the water and formed a sticky paste that would be a nightmare to remove.

"Oh. I tripped over. Several times."

"Where is Frodo?" Aragorn asked softly. Clearly the ex-ring bearer could not be home or he would have sorted out this mess by now…Aragorn was honestly beginning to wonder if Frodo had some form of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

"F-f-f-finishing ac-c-c-counts!" Sam suddenly put down the bowl, laid his head in his arms and started sobbing uncontrollably.

Aragorn frowned in confusion, wondering what could have possibly sparked such a reaction in Sam.

Aragorn heard footsteps behind him and Frodo's soft voice explained, "Rosie died."

"Ah. That explains it." Aragorn murmured, feeling a headache beginning to pulse at his temples.

The same ailment was beginning to affect Frodo as he walked passed Aragorn, through all of the mess on the floor that his mind was screaming at him to start cleaning. The ex-ring bearer wrapped his arms around Sam, making soothing noises.

As the distraught hobbit began to calm down, Frodo's wide blue eyes fixed on Aragorn begging him silently, "Can you see if anyone else is at home and start clearing up this mess?"

"Very well." Aragorn replied, "I'll see who I can gather."

Ten minutes later; Pippin, Aragorn and Legolas were all scrubbing the kitchen clean. Aragorn was determinedly scrubbing at the sink, repeating in his head that he had faced the forces of Mordor and in comparison, this was nothing. Although, at that precise moment in time, he really wished he was facing an orc instead.

Legolas was picking bits of bowl off of the floor and he looked up as Pippin walked over carrying a mop. Sky-blue eyes widened as the mop descended to clean the egg from the floor.

"No!" the elf cried in protest, causing Pippin to freeze comically.

"Why not?"

"That will only cause it to spread further. You must put salt on it!"

"Why?"

There was a short pause, before glacial blue eyes glared at the hobbit. "Do not question the word of an elf."

Pippin shrugged and walked over to the cupboard, whose door seemed to have magnetically attracted flour to it as nearly the entire surface was covered in white speckles, and found the salt, throwing it onto the egg.

Suddenly, Merry suddenly running in, "Sam is-"

Whatever he was going to say was cut off, as he tripped over the bucket of soapy water being used for washing the floor and crashed into Aragorn. Aragorn fell over…straight into the solidifying egg.

A wailing mournful cry rang through the kitchen, b "My hair!" /b

Chapter three

The worst thing a Dwarven waiter can come home to is a hysterical ex-ranger, a hysterical hobbit, and the worst mess since Merry and Pippin had gotten drunk and decided to play a game involving fire, a watermelon and Gandalf's hat.

The friends were spread between two flats; the four hobbits were in flat Sam, Frodo and Gandalf shared. Frodo was comforting a still-mourning Sam, whilst Merry and Pippin cleaned the kitchen.

Gimli swiftly snuck past this flat, unwilling to get sucked into cleaning/comforting duties, and into his own, where Aragorn was mourning over his hair, and Legolas was searching how to get egg out of hair on the computer. Thus far, he was having little success…

"Could you not have head lice? There is plenty of information on here about nit care."

Aragorn gave him a death glare.

"Well, I can not find anything!" Legolas sighed in irritation, "On the positive side, apparently egg is a good conditioner !"

"Ach!" Gimli said gruffly. What a fuss over a bit of egg on the noggin! "Why don't you just apply logic? Hot water will cook it, so just rinse it out with cold water and shampoo

Legolas opened his mouth to comment that he would never have thought of that. The next second he snapped it closed. He would never admit a dwarf had just applied logic better than an elf. Elves would always be superior in every way to dwarves, including logical reasoning.

Aragorn simply ran off to the bathroom. Mere seconds later the elf and the dwarf heard the shower turn on full-power.

"What happened to the hobbit's kitchen?" Gimli asked.

Legolas sighed and explained about Rosie and Sam's disastrous baking spree. Usually, Sam was an extraordinary cook, but he did tend to be rather messy, so he was limited to cooking only when Frodo was out of the flat, unless he wanted a shadow-like ninja-cleaner constantly in his way.

"'E's always losing pets." Gimli grumbled.

Legolas sighed, "Please attempt to havesome sensitivity Gimli! You know what Sam is like!"

"All too well." Gimli muttered in reply.

At five o'clock in the evening of the 22nd of May 2010, Rosie, Sam's twenty second gerbil to have that name, was buried in a flowerpot on the balcony 'garden'. Aforementioned 'garden' actually only contained a few pots, containing herbs for cooking and a few flowers that Sam had taken a fancy to.

The fellowship, minus Gandalf who was at a conference in New Zealand and clearly couldn't make it back in time for the funeral, had been begged, threatened, provoked and cajoled by Frodo into gathering together. All were dressed in black, although Sam was also wearing a bright pink tie, which he was also using as a mock-handkerchief. He kept dabbing his eyes as tears ran down his cheeks faster than Aragorn could recite Arwen's telephone number.

Frodo read out a touching sermon, the same he had performed for the last twenty pets that had died. Every member of the Fellowship, except for Sam, was silently reciting it in their head, praying for the end. It was very uncomfortable on the balcony as it was a swelteringly hot day and the sun was doing its best to blind anyone facing it and burn the necks of those facing away. As the balcony was also very small, Merry and Pippin were shoved right into the corners, with Frodo and Sam in the middle as Sam was patting down the earth in the pot to ensure the body was firmly covered. Legolas was sitting perched on the balcony rail, completely at ease with the twenty storey drop below. Aragorn and Gimli were uncomfortably stuck halfway out on the balcony but halfway inside the flat at the same time.

Gimli was feeling particularly unsympathetic. Why Sam bought pets with such short life spans was beyond him and why Frodo had insisted Gimli forgo his late afternoon nap to attend this was also another mystery. The waiter sighed, and slipped his hand into his pocket, hoping to find his mobile phone. A game might ease the boredom of this tedious ceremony…The dwarf let out a startled yelp as something clenched around his questing fingers.

Legolas, who had been in the middle of singing a lament, glared at him. Gimli drew his hand out of his pocket…to discover a lobster hanging on for dear life on his fingers.

Sam looked up from the pot, his brown eyes fixing on the image of the rapidly-reddening dwarf, who was gasping like a fish out of water. The hobbit let out a soft exclamation, "Oh, the poor thing!"

"Lad, I ain't a thing. I'm a dwarf." Gimli scowled.

"Not you!" Sam frowned, "Lily!"

The Fellowship all looked at one another in complete bewilderment.

"Who's Lily?" Merry asked, as no-one else seemed to be about to speak.

"Lily the lobster!" Sam cried, and walked over to Gimli, "Stop messing around Gimli, we need to put Lily into a tank of some sort…Oooh! I know! I can use Frodo the fish's tank!" he retrieved the lobster from Gimli's now red throbbing fingers and ran inside the flat.

As the fellowship looked at Sam's mad dash around the flat, Frodo could only remark, "Rosie who?"

**A/N: I am well aware that OCD is a serious condition and I have great sympathy for anyone with the disorder, but please bear in mind this is light-hearted comedy and should be taken with a pinch of salt or sugar according to your preference. It is comparable to Monica from FRIENDS, who has an OCD like behaviour, although that wasn't a deliberate thing I set out to do, it just happened.**


End file.
